


The Silence Between Side Story  - A Winter Day

by Snailsway, TDmomo



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailsway/pseuds/Snailsway, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDmomo/pseuds/TDmomo
Summary: *reposted separately for logistical reasons*Professor Chen and Brett go on a snow date!A side story for the Silence Between written in Chinese by the awesome TDMomo, and translated by Snailsway :)
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	The Silence Between Side Story  - A Winter Day

It had begun to snow in New York, and the city blanketed in snow—like a rainy Manhattan evening—was the stuff of romantic fantasies. In reality, though, the pure white snow of movie dreamscapes transformed the minute it hit New York’s dirty streets, into a wet, slippery sludge that shattered all fairytale illusions.

Brett, unmoved by the first snow, had burrowed deep under the covers. But burrowed by himself, he began to feel that his cocoon wasn’t quite as warm as he’d liked.

“Eddy, hurry up! It’s cold.”

Eddy was standing at the window, watching the flurry descend from the heavens, like so many pieces of fluff that wove themselves into a veil of white. He reached out an arm, as if he wanted to feel it with his fingers. But in the end, he merely pulled the curtains shut.

“Coming. You think the snow will accumulate tomorrow?” Eddy asked as he slipped under the covers and assumed the role of Brett’s human heater.

“Hard to say. If it does though, should we go out and play?” Brett teased.

“Just go to sleep.”

Brett smiled and snuggled into Eddy’s warm embrace. “Good night.”

*

Surprisingly, the rare December snow did actually accumulate. When Eddy awoke early the next morning and pulled open the curtains, he was half-blinded by the bright light reflecting off the white grounds. Having never encountered such scenes in Australia, he found himself momentarily dazed.

Brett, awakened by the light, hummed softly in protest, like a small animal.

“Wake up. You have finals soon, remember? Time to practice.”

“Ugh,” Brett groaned. “You’re so annoying! Did someone forget that they were _fired_ ages ago? Hmm, Professor?”

This, of course, merely awakened the professor in Eddy to the fullest. He tugged Brett out from the sheets in cold blood and very “responsibly” began supervising his practice.

*

Brett had his own style when it came to the Sibelius concerto. As Eddy listened while staring into the frosted city, he couldn’t help thinking that the Brett’s playing mimed the cold clarity of a snowy day while, at the same time, manifesting the sincere warmth at the very heart of Brett. His lips lifted subconsciously into a smile.

“I’m tired. I don’t wanna practice anymore. Let’s go out! We can play in the snow.”

"I'm pretty sure you were the one to ask me for help on this piece? Besides, play in the snow _?_ What are you, a child?”

“But you’re not even offering anything constructive. . .” Brett muttered. But upon seeing Eddy's darkening expression, he quickly added, “It’s just so rare to for the snow to hold in December. We should take advantage. Let’s just go out for a tiny bit?”

He turned to Eddy with irresistible puppy eyes, and, while Eddy knew that Brett was just looking for ways to avoid practice, what could he do but give in? With great reluctance, he said, “Just a little bit, then. Afterwards, you have to keep practicing, okay?”

Thus pardoned, Brett packed his instrument in a flash and was off looking for his coat, lightening quick. 

Eddy, meanwhile, had returned to the window again. To play in the snow? Setting aside the fact that Brisbane never snowed, something so frivolous would never make it onto the schedule of a child prodigy. And then once he'd become a famous soloist, his fingers were too valuable to risk. Besides, he was too old, and this was too childish.

“What are you looking at?” Brett was already dressed and at the door. “Hurry up and go change.”

Eddy’s heart softened at the sight of his boyfriend all bundled-up. Maybe a brief respite in the snow wouldn’t be so bad.

When he turned to retrieve his coat, Brett took his place at the window and stared out thoughtfully, as if he were scheming something or other.

*

It being very early and very cold, the nearby park they strolled to was nearly empty, devoid of even children. It was as if, in the midst of the opulent city, they’d found a cozy cove just for themselves. But before Eddy could fully savor the romance of the idea, Brett exclaimed, “Let’s build a snowman,” and was already forming a ball.

Eddy stopped him quickly, furrowing his brows in displeasure at the sight of Brett’s bare hands. He took out two pairs of gloves from his pockets and thrust one towards Brett. “Are you trying to injure yourself?”

Brett gave him a look— _you soloists sure are fussy_ —and scooped up a clump of snow. “Here, give me your hand.” Eddy, though unsure what this was all about, nonetheless did as told. Brett dumped the snow into his palm.

A shiver ran through Eddy, but the novelty of the experience stopped him short of protesting. He stared carefully at the soft, pure snow melting slowly in his palm, revealing layer upon layer of translucent crystals. Like the missing puzzle piece to his childhood.

Observing Eddy’s look of wonder, Brett allowed himself a small, discreet grin.

*

Though Brett had been the one to suggest building a snowman, it was really Eddy who did most of the work. Brett’s role was mostly limited to evaluating the finished product with a critical eye, and as he evaluated, he realized with a start that their “snowman” was really just a stack of snowballs.

“Carrots.”

“What?”

“We need a carrot. It’s not a real snowman without a carrot. Man, if I’d known we were going to do this, I wouldn’t have made those flutes last night.”

It took Eddy a second to remember that Brett had insisted on making bizarre carrot-flutes last night based on some newfangled Youtube videos, thereby wasting a whole packet of perfectly good carrots. Then, to prove his success with the sole carrot he managed not to mangle, he played a version of Jingle Bells that almost murdered Eddy’s ears. The memory amused Eddy enough that he generously decided to “forgive” Brett for criticizing his hard work today.

Brett didn’t seem to appreciate that though, because next thing he knew, Brett had shoved a fistfull of snow down Eddy’s collar. Eddy, cold and peeved, momentarily forgot that he was supposed to be the mature one and promptly returned the favor, escalating their tit for tat into a full-on kerfuffle.

Of course, Brett couldn’t physically overpower Eddy, so in the end, Eddy got a hold of him and pressed him into the snow-laden ground, making as if to smear a clump on his face. Brett squeezed his eyes shut and heroically prepared himself for the cold. After waiting for a few seconds, he was just about to open his eyes when something landed on his lips—not the cold clump of snow he was expecting, but rather, a soft, warm kiss. Brett blinked; his face felt hot. Eddy pulled him up nonchalantly and swiped the residual snow off their coats.

Eddy wanted to laugh a little; Brett had buried his face in his scarf again. How is it that after all this time, he could still be so shy? But perhaps that was why Eddy found him to be so precious.

*

After all the shenanigans, the two of them were exhausted.

“If you’re done playing, let’s go home.” Eddy noticed with a pang that Brett’s cheeks and nose had been frozen pink.

Brett nodded quietly in acquiescence, his earlier energy having petered out.

Brett then extended his hand, and Eddy reached for it as a matter of habit, only to be surprised by Brett taking hold of both of his hands, rubbing them with his much smaller hands and warming them with soft puffs of hot air.

“You shouldn’t be lecturing me when your own hands are freezing. You’re the soloist here, so it’s your hands that need protecting. Don’t come blaming me if you can’t perform anymore.”

The warmth spread between their frozen hands, from the palms, to the fingertips, to their hearts.

Subdued and docile, Eddy let Brett continue. He could tell it wasn’t easy, given the size difference of their hands, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop Brett. Between the two of them, Eddy almost always assumed the more protective role, so Brett’s sudden show of concern surprised him, invoking a secret delight and a flood of warmth.

Brett’s love was always so simple and candid, like a flurry of snow, a pure and unblemished web he’d cast over Eddy.

*

“Kay, we’re all good.” Brett smiled up at Eddy expectantly.

“Weren’t you the one who dragged me out here in the first place?” The subtext being, it was only fair that he warmed their hands. But though Eddy had meant to tease Brett, his soft gaze and irrepressible smile betrayed him.

Brett rolled his eyes. “And who was it now that was complaining that playing with snow was childish, when he obviously really wanted to play? And today, I suspect, might even be his very first time . . . _hmm ._ . .”

If was, of course, the same disgruntled person who decided to end the argument as "adults" do. ;)

*

Which is to say, perhaps snowy days in New York weren’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> It snowed yesterday for the first time in NYC, and I was like how cute would it be if Prof Chen and Brett had a moment in the snow. And TDMomo was like "well what if these adorable things happened" and I was like "how about you write a fic for me???" And she did!!! <3


End file.
